President Obama: Prime Minister Abe, on behalf of the American
people, thank you for your gracious words. Thank you for your presence
here today -- an historic gesture that speaks to the power of
reconciliation and the alliance between the American and Japanese
peoples; a reminder that even the deepest wounds of war can give way to
friendship and lasting peace.

Distinguished guests, members of our armed forces -- and most of all,
survivors of Pearl Harbor and their loved ones -- aloha.

Audience Members: Aloha.

President Obama: To Americans -- especially to those of us who call
Hawaii home -- this harbor is a sacred place. As we lay a wreath or
toss flowers into waters that still weep, we think of the more than
2,400 American patriots -- fathers and husbands, wives and daughters --
manning Heaven’s rails for all eternity. We salute the defenders of
Oahu who pull themselves a little straighter every December 7th, and we
reflect on the heroism that shone here 75 years ago.

As dawn broke that December day, paradise never seemed so sweet. The
water was warm and impossibly blue. Sailors ate in the mess hall, or
readied themselves for church, dressed in crisp white shorts and
t-shirts. In the harbor, ships at anchor floated in neat rows: the
California, the Maryland and the Oklahoma, the Tennessee, the West
Virginia and the Nevada. On the deck of the Arizona, the Navy band was
tuning up.

That morning, the ranks on men’s shoulders defined them less than the
courage in their hearts. Across the island, Americans defended
themselves however they could -- firing training shells, working old
bolt-action rifles. An African-American mess steward, who would
typically be confined to cleaning duties, carried his commander to
safety, and then fired an anti-aircraft gun until he ran out of ammo.

We honor Americans like Jim Downing -- a gunner’s mate first class on
the West Virginia. Before he raced to the harbor, his new bride pressed
into his hand a verse of Scripture: “The eternal God is thy refuge, and
underneath are the everlasting arms.” As Jim fought to save his ship,
he simultaneously gathered the names of the fallen so that he could give
closure to their families. He said, “It was just something you do.”

We remember Americans like Harry Pang -- a fireman from Honolulu who, in
the face of withering fire, worked to douse burning planes until he gave
his last full measure of devotion

-- one of the only civilian firefighters ever to receive the Purple
Heart.

We salute Americans like Chief Petty Officer John Finn, who manned a
.50-caliber machine gun for more than two hours and was wounded more
than 20 times, earning him our nation’s highest military decoration, the
Medal of Honor.

And it is here that we reflect on how war tests our most enduring values
-- how, even as Japanese Americans were deprived of their own liberty
during the war, one of the most decorated military units in the history
of the United States was the 442nd Infantry Regiment and its 100th
Infantry Battalion -- the Japanese-American Nisei. In that 442nd served
my friend and proud Hawaiian,
Daniel Inouye -- a man who was a senator
from Hawaii for most of my life and with whom I would find myself proud
to serve in the Senate chamber; a man who was not only a recipient of
the Medal of Honor and the Presidential Medal of Freedom, but was one of
the most distinguished statesmen of his generation as well.

Here at Pearl Harbor, America’s first battle of the Second World War
roused a nation. Here, in so many ways, America came of age. A
generation of Americans -- including my grandparents -- the Greatest
Generation -- they did not seek war, but they refused to shrink from
it. And they all did their part on fronts and in factories. And while,
75 years later, the proud ranks of Pearl Harbor survivors have thinned
with time, the bravery we recall here is forever etched in our national
heart. I would ask all our Pearl Harbor and World War II veterans who
are able to, to please stand or raise your hands -- because a grateful
nation thanks you.

The character of nations is tested in war, but it is defined in peace.
After one of the most horrific chapters in human history -- one that
took not tens of thousands, but tens of millions of lives -- with
ferocious fighting across this ocean -- the United States and Japan
chose friendship and peace. Over the decades, our alliance has made
both of our nations more successful. It has helped underwrite an
international order that has prevented another World War and that has
lifted more than a billion people out of extreme poverty. And today,
the alliance between the United States and Japan -- bound not only by
shared interests, but also rooted in common values -- stands as the
cornerstone of peace and stability in the Asia Pacific and a force for
progress around the globe. Our alliance has never been stronger.

In good times and in bad, we are there for each other. Recall five
years ago, when a wall of water bore down on Japan and reactors in
Fukushima melted, America’s men and women in uniform were there to help
our Japanese friends. Across the globe, the United States and Japan
work shoulder-to-shoulder to strengthen the security of the Asia Pacific
and the world -- turning back piracy, combating disease, slowing the
spread of nuclear weapons, keeping the peace in war-torn lands.

Earlier this year, near Pearl Harbor, Japan joined with two dozen
nations in the world’s largest maritime military exercise. That
included our forces from U.S. Pacific Command, led by Admiral Harry
Harris, the son of an American Naval officer and a Japanese mother.
Harry was born in Yokosuka, but you wouldn’t know it from his Tennessee
twang.

Thank you, Harry, for your outstanding leadership.

In this sense, our presence here today -- the connections not just
between our governments, but between our people, the presence of Prime
Minister Abe here today -- remind us of what is possible between nations
and between peoples. Wars can end. The most bitter of adversaries can
become the strongest of allies. The fruits of peace always outweigh the
plunder of war. This is the enduring truth of this hallowed harbor.

It is here that we remember that even when hatred burns hottest, even
when the tug of tribalism is at its most primal, we must resist the urge
to turn inward. We must resist the urge to demonize those who are
different. The sacrifice made here, the anguish of war, reminds us to
seek the divine spark that is common to all humanity. It insists that
we strive to be what our Japanese friends call otagai no tame ni --
“with and for each other.”

That’s the lesson of Captain William Callaghan of the Missouri. Even
after an attack on his ship, he ordered that the Japanese pilot be laid
to rest with military honors, wrapped in a Japanese flag sewn by
American sailors. It’s the lesson, in turn, of the Japanese pilot who,
years later, returned to this harbor, befriended an old Marine bugler
and asked him to play taps and lay two roses at this memorial every
month -- one for America’s fallen and one for Japan’s.

It’s a lesson our two peoples learn every day, in the most ordinary of
ways -- whether it's Americans studying in Tokyo, young Japanese
studying across America; scientists from our two nations together
unraveling the mysteries of cancer, or combating climate change,
exploring the stars. It’s a baseball player like
Ichiro lighting up a
stadium in Miami, buoyed by the shared pride of two peoples, both
American and Japanese, united in peace and friendship.

As nations, and as people, we cannot choose the history that we
inherit. But we can choose what lessons to draw from it, and use those
lessons to chart our own futures.

Prime Minister Abe, I welcome you here in the spirit of friendship, as
the people of Japan have always welcomed me. I hope that together, we
send a message to the world that there is more to be won in peace than
in war; that reconciliation carries more rewards than retribution.

Here in this quiet harbor, we honor those we lost, and we give thanks
for all that our two nations have won -- together, as friends.